


Revelations

by mee4ever



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Conversations, Derek Hale Saves The Day, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Shooting Guns, contract killer, i don't know if this should be mature???, it's just a fucked up piece of writing, kind of????????? - Freeform, no good tags, seriously, stiles cheats on his girlfriend with derek, there are no tags for this fic, u see, very open sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: "I have a girlfriend,” he says, and Derek turns his head, stops walking as well as talking. The look he gives Stiles is one of disbelief, one Stiles would’ve wanted to have never seen because it will just as soon be changing into something else. Anger? Disappointment? Hurt? It is hard to know with Derek but Stiles doesn’t want to have to wait for whatever is coming.Stiles stopped walking long before the other man did and now they stand almost ten meters apart, staring, evaluating, waiting.“This… is ourfourthdate, Stiles. What the fuck?”Or the one where Stiles thinks he spills a pretty big secret, but it seems Derek has one of a bit bigger dimensions.





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> completely unbeta'd.  
> [Link to complimantary tumblr art post](http://free-to-be-no-one-but-mee.tumblr.com/post/160165602039/i-have-a-girlfriend-he-says-and-derek-turns)

"I have a girlfriend,” he says. Derek turns his head, stops walking as well as talking. The look he gives Stiles is one of disbelief, one Stiles would’ve wanted to have never seen because it will just as soon be changing into something else. Anger? Disappointment? Hurt? It is hard to know with Derek but Stiles doesn’t want to have to wait for whatever is coming.

Stiles stopped walking long before Derek did and now they stand almost ten meters apart, staring, evaluating, waiting.

“This… is our _fourth_ date, Stiles. What the fuck?”

Stiles starts moving towards him, tries to explain, but Derek just puts a hand up and interrupts.

“A _girlfriend?_ Last time I…” and his cheeks flames suddenly red, confusing Stiles for a second because he looks embarrassed. “I sucked your cock and you couldn’t find it in you to tell me that I’m the person on the fucking side?” His words echoes in the underground parking lot and it’s like the space tells Stiles over and over how he’s fucked up. It’s just: **cock** cock _cock_ , **tell me** tell me _tell me_ , **side** side _side_.

“Sorry,” Stiles says while scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t really mean to fall down so deep into this thing with you.”

Derek's face turns to stone. “So, you wanna stop seeing me.”

“What? No! No, I want to _continue_ seeing you, that’s why I’m telling you I have a girlfriend. A soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. I just want to be honest with you.”

“Oh.”

Stiles panics because, fuck, no, that “Oh” doesn’t sound good. “I mean, unless you think this is a super bad idea and were on your way to tell me we're not a good match or, you know, something like that. Then I’ll probably just break up with my girlfriend anyway and masturbate for three days strai-”

Derek doesn’t even say anything, he just gives Stiles a pair of raised eyebrows and Stiles shuts up. This, them, is new, they haven’t even decided to call it a “we” yet so everything feels uncertain, but then Derek shakes his head, almost smiling. Stiles grins. Finally, they move towards each other again, both of them, as to meet in the middle. Then something happens that Stiles hadn’t expected.

It starts with Derek’s face, a twist of his eyebrows, a widening look, and suddenly he screams, “Get down!”

Stiles, who doesn’t understand why on earth Derek would say such a thing, is momentarily lost and frozen in place, but it seems not to matter because Derek is _throwing_ himself at Stiles and in the second that his body connects with Stiles’ and sends them both flying to the ground, there are gunshots echoing off the walls. Stiles lands hard on his shoulder and the pain sends him suddenly bursting with adrenaline and crawling towards the nearest car as soon as he can, Derek pointing towards where he should go. His heartbeat is through the roof, he feels like maybe he can’t actually breathe, and- Holy fuck, is Derek holding a fucking gun?

 _Yes,_ Stiles learns after half a second when Derek _fires_ said gun. It’s just as Stiles hits his entire side into the Camero and when he follows the line of the pistol, to where the target should be, he sees a man going down. Soundless. Bleeding. Dead. His brain registers it, but then Derek is pulling him up and away from the door long enough to open it and push Stiles inside. Stiles complies because for whatever reason a man is dead and it was by the end of Derek’s gun, Derek has yet to do anything to suggest Stiles would be in danger by going with him and therefore the rational parts of his brains decides that going with a killer is better than being killed. At least it will prolong his life a couple of minutes, if nothing else.

Derek throws himself into the car’s driver’s seat and there’s another shot, one that hits the car in the middle of the windshield and Stiles automatically shies away and hides in his seat. Derek casually ignores the busted glass, starts the car and then they’re speeding away like a spaceship going through hyperspace. There’s one final shot, it hits the side of the car and makes an awful sound that is what finally breaks it for Stiles.

“Derek, what the hell is going on?” he asks, his voice going up in a high pitch. “Who were those people? Did you really just _shoot_ that guy? Why do you have a gun? Did they just try to kill us? They did, didn't they? Did you kill him? You did, _fuck_. Who are you? Where the _fuck_ are we going?” Then a thought hits him and he asks, “Are you an undercover cop? Did my dad put you up to this? Are you dating me for my _protection?_ Is this a _lie?”_

“Stiles.” Derek doesn’t look at him, which Stiles is glad for because, at this speed, Derek should look nowhere but at the road.

“Yeah, right,” he says and takes a quick breath, ”breathing and leave room for answers in between questions, got it.”

Derek just drives. Stiles freaks out some more. He jumps his leg, he slaps himself, he bites his fingers, he pulls at his hair, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. At least one man is _dead,_ and Derek was the one to pull that trigger. And fine, they were shooting at them first but like, why did Derek even have a gun? Stiles gives him glances because he doesn’t know how to look at him for a longer time anymore. He doesn’t know what to do with the disgust, the lust, the gratitude or the sinking feeling that something isn’t just off but completely wrong.

The car roams through town, over the speed limit, and towards something that Stiles doesn't know what it is but doesn’t dare to right now ask about again. If he’s gonna get any answers, he needs to wait Derek out. They haven’t known each other for all that long, but this, Stiles learned quickly.

“There’s a pretty juicy price on your head,” Derek says then.

Finally, Stiles twists in his seat and stares at him. “There’s a what now?”

Derek doesn’t say anything more while Stiles ponders this. He’s up for grabs, his head on a plate and money to be found. He cannot believe that he himself has done anything to make this happen, he doesn’t even smoke weed, so that leaves only one conclusion. His dad. And there’s a twist in his gut that makes him want to reach for his phone and call him, immediately, but maybe that’s not such a good thing, after all, seeing as the man that he’s dating just shot a man. And Stiles still has a girlfriend. Fuck.

“I… I was going to collect that money.”

The car stops at a red light, the speed cutting too fast and Stiles flies forward before he can stop himself. Derek checks the mirrors and seems content with what he finds, or doesn't find, in them.

Stiles coughs, buckles in and then he understands. Understands what Derek just said, what that indicated, why Derek has a gun.

“You were going to _kill me?!”_ he yells. “You literally had me feeling super guilty for not telling you I have a _girlfriend,_ when the reason we even _met_ was because you were to shoot me in the fucking head?”

With a stone cold face, Derek says, “Yes.”

Stiles blows a raspberry and doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. Yet it somehow makes sense. Why would this hunk of a man ever look twice at Stiles if it wasn’t because he was literally worth money? “I cannot believe we’ve been out _four_ times.” That it has taken this long before everything went to shit, that Stiles hadn’t even thought about the fact that maybe Derek didn’t like him because of any other reasons than that Stiles is just Stiles “FOUR! You gave me a blow job, holy shit, I’ve gotten head from a contract killer and I was going to fuck- Shit! Fuck! Why haven’t you killed me?” He regrets asking it just as it’s out of his mouth, so he continues, “You know what? I don’t care why, to be honest, I think it’s best if I don’t know.”

“It’s because you’ve done nothing.”

It’s quiet until Stiles asks, “What?”

“You got a dollar sign ‘cause your daddy pissed off the wrong people. Revenge and all that bullshit, frankly not of any interest. But you're just… you. You don’t kill people, you don’t sell drugs, you're not wanted by the police, you're not… You’re not even in the mob.” Derek has the audacity to _shrug._

“You… decided not to kill me because I’m not in the mob? What are you? A killer with a code?”

Derek snorts. Instead of answering he asks, “You said you were gonna do something, what was it?”

“What? When?”

“Just now, after you said I had… you know, you said 'and I was gonna' and then you stopped.”

Stiles blushes but Derek cannot see that. “I was gonna say that I was going to break up with my girlfriend over you.” It isn’t true. Yes, he would break up with her, but even without Derek, he would do it. Now, he is going to have to do it without Derek. The statement is also not true because that wasn’t what he was going to say, but right now, telling Derek that he had planned to let Derek fuck him, is not top priority. Derek just murmurs something inaudible in response and Stiles stares out the side window. The windshield, with the bullet hole, isn’t of much comfort, but the city passing by makes him feel calm.

“It was because of your eyes,” Derek confesses.

Stiles realises that they’ve stopped, that they’re parked. In another parking garage, and he starts asking, “What are you-”

“Why I didn’t take the shot.” Apparently, this is a thing they’re talking about. “You have innocent eyes.”

Stiles laughs short. “I’m not that innocent.” Comically, he puts a hand over his mouth and Derek, for the first time, glances at him, hands still on the wheel. “Wow, okay,” Stiles says, “I just said that, please pretend I didn't, though. I am _not_ interested in anything with you, ever again.”

Somehow, when Derek says, “I did just save your life, it would be understandable if you did.” It comes out smug and nervous at the same time.

“Right?!” Stiles says because he can't stop staring at Derek’s hands, and thinking about where he wants them. It’s adrenaline, Stiles knows, the adrenaline that wants out. He could cry or laugh hysterically, that would work just as well. He doesn’t care.

“Yeah, I think the phenomenon has a name-”  Stiles doesn't want to know what it’s called, he wants Derek under his fingertips, so he unbuckles his seatbelt and with grace he did not know he had, he manages to get his limbs from the passenger seat over to the front seat and then he’s sitting in Derek’s lap. They do not say anything because their mouths are busy tearing each other apart.

Derek tastes like oblivion and Stiles wants to forget it all. He wants to forget that Derek was supposed to kill him, and that he didn’t. He wants to forget that Derek saved him, that he shot a man, that he made Stiles feel like he’s precious. Fuck him. Oh god, how Stiles wants to _fuck him._ So Stiles kicks the angel of his shoulder, and puts his hands on Derek with intent, fingers on a buckle and Derek groans—pleasantly so—when Stiles opens it.

Derek trails hard kisses and licks down the side of Stiles’ throat, and growls, “Need you.”

“Oh, you have _no idea,”_ Stiles says and shoves Derek back against the seat and chases his lips, fingers working Derek’s jeans open. When he finally reaches down Derek's underwear, Derek has started to unbuckle Stiles as well, but he stops as Stiles takes Derek’s cock in his hand. It’s heavy, uncut, and every inch perfect. Stiles yearns to have it in him, but it’s not the time, they don’t have the time, and instead, he just takes a firm grip and gives it an experimental stroke. Derek bucks up into the touch and Stiles goes for it with much more intent after that. Somewhere in the breaths of Derek Hale and his cock in Stiles’ hand, Derek has gotten into his pants and when his hand closes around Stiles, the sound he omits is only embarrassing until Derek catches them with his mouth. With their free hands, they both roam the other’s chest, getting shirts out of the way as much as possible without taking them off.

It is quick and needy, handsy, and too loud for a normal exchange of handjobs. Stiles comes first, shaking and panting, and Derek follows him closely behind, burying his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck and bites down as he does. Stiles gasps at that and rolls his eyes back into his head.

Once Derek releases his throat, Stiles is pretty sure he’ll have a nasty looking mark but he cannot muster enough energy to care.

Derek looks at him when Stiles finally opens his eyes. He doesn't look cold, per se, but almost distant. Derek gets his shirt off (the whole nakedness of his upper body is mesmerising) and uses it to swash it over their stomachs, not really cleaning but at least getting rid of most of the cooling spunk.

“Brute,” Stiles snorts and Derek only raises an eyebrow at him before pushing Stiles to lean uncomfortably back over the steering wheel and leaning forward himself. He then proceeds to _lick_ Stiles’ stomach of the remaining mess, making Stiles’ breath hitch and his cock twitch.

“You just _have_ to prove me wrong, don’t you?”

He let’s Stiles down again, and when he leans back in his seat, Stiles follows and presses his forehead to Derek’s. Stiles can just about glimpse the smile on Derek’s lips and Stiles lets himself smile for a second too. They stay like that, arms around each other, foreheads together, half dressed, as the last remaining adrenaline rinses off.

“I can’t knowingly date a man that kills for a living,” Stiles says when the silence has dragged out too long. “My dad’s a cop.”

Derek doesn’t move, but he says, “Fair.”

Stiles doesn’t like it. He likes _Derek._ “Fuck you,” he says and his voice almost breaks. “It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

Quietly, Derek says, “I don't know if it ever could be any other way.”

Derek pulls Stiles in, makes their chest’s flush together, and he hugs Stiles like it’s the last time he will. Maybe it is. Stiles hugs back with the same ferocity.

“Derek, are you going to leave me now?”

Derek pulls back, eyebrows drawn together. “I thought you’d-”

Stiles interrupts him. “What… What will happen if someone tries again? Someone will, won’t they?” Derek’s eyes widen and Stiles adds thinly, “I don’t want to die.”

Derek’s face looks a mess at the words and he grabs Stiles’ face and painstakingly he vows, “I will _never_ let that happen.”

Stiles swallows and presses, “You can’t be my invisible bodyguard, Derek. That’s no life.” He doesn’t say that contract killing isn’t really a life either or that he himself could never live with the knowledge that Derek was close by but never in reach.  

“We call the cops.” It’s Derek who says it and Stiles stares at him.

“What?”

“Specifically: We call your dad. Tell him what happened today.”

“And what exactly do I tell him?”

Derek looks scared and determined when he answers. “That you were shot at in an underground parking lot, that your boyfriend—who has a legally bought gun, by the way—went into full military mode and shot a man to protect the both of you and got you away from the situation. It took a while before you were able to calm down and then for you to convince me we had to call the cops.”

“Boyfriend?”

Derek blushes. “That’s your only objection?"

“It’s not an objection! I just… still have a _girlfriend.”_ They stay quiet for a second before Stiles asks, “What am I gonna tell him when he asks your name?”

Derek doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “You tell the truth. I’m Derek Hale. He can look me up, he’ll… believe the story.”

Squinting, Stiles asks, _“Are_ you military?”

Derek stares out the window for a while before saying, “Ex-marine. Honourable discharge.”

“Wow.” Stiles understands that there’s a deeper story here, one Derek doesn’t want to tell him, at least not yet, so he doesn't pry.

“If this works, what do we do then?”

“I stay with you.” Derek looks at him again.

“With me?” Stiles asks, voice low.

“I'll be your… privately hired bodyguard until this is solved. I'll do nothing but save your life.” Derek smiles a little and rubs his thumb over Stiles’ jaw like a promise.

Stiles doesn’t dare to think of any other outcome than the both of them coming out alive, so he asks, “And after that? Once the price is off my head?”

“I don’t know.”

Stiles wonders if that is enough. If _they’re_ enough. He wants it to be. He doesn’t care that Derek’s done some pretty fucked up things, he doesn’t care that they're out on thin ice or that his dad might see straight through him. He wants this. He wants Derek. And Derek is willing to give himself to him. Stiles doesn't know if it’s weakness, stupidity, or bravery, but he moves from Derek’s lap into the passenger seat again (his legs thank him) and pulls out his phone.

_“Stiles?”_

“Yeah, hi dad,” Stiles says and casts a glance at Derek. “There are a few things I need to tell you.”


End file.
